


New Phone, Who Dis?

by Rhaized



Series: Adventures of Mary and Marisa [6]
Category: His Dark Materials (TV), His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Impersonating Mary on social media, Lyra and her two mums, Marisa learning how to use a smartphone, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Stalking Lyra on social media, kinda a crackfic but treated seriously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 15:47:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28512906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhaized/pseuds/Rhaized
Summary: Marisa gets a smartphone and asks Mary to help her learn how to use it. Not surprisingly, it doesn’t work out well, as Marisa takes advantage of Mary’s trust to do everything in her power to reach out to and connect with Lyra online.
Relationships: Lyra Belacqua & Marisa Coulter, Marisa Coulter/Mary Malone
Series: Adventures of Mary and Marisa [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2073954
Comments: 16
Kudos: 56





	New Phone, Who Dis?

**Author's Note:**

> In this AU, Lyra and Will are living with Will’s mom (who is better) and Lyra has a difficult yet somewhat-intact relationship with her mother—and by association, her mom’s cool, super amazing, fun, and warm-hearted girlfriend Mary. :)

As Mary took the phone out of its special casings, methodically setting aside the instruction manual while peeling off the protective covering, Marisa was skeptical.

“You’ll absolutely _love_ this, Marisa,” Mary was saying as she turned the device on and pulled out the little booklet, skimming the directions and typing things in quickly and easily. “This is a game-changer.”

Marisa had slowly been growing accustomed to the concept of the “internet.” It was such a strange and intoxicating idea, that there was some kind of inter-connected world spanning across time and space to join together people and ideas. Marisa could hardly believe it when she’d first discovered it at Mary’s lab, and still felt a little frightened of it as she’d asked Mary to “google” things for her on her behalf. So now to have a portable device that not only facilitated phone calls but also granted access to the _internet_ felt entirely overwhelming, if not enchanting.

“Here we go,” Mary said a few minutes later after she’d set up the phone. It was a smooth and handsome little thing, made of what looked like thinly-cut metal that had a shiny little apple on it (but with a small bite out of it). Was it a _sinful_ apple, Marisa found herself pondering, and some kind of symbol and remnant of the heavenly Authority and the great fall of Adam and Eve? Was she entirely overthinking it?

_Yes, you are,_ her monkey thought to her frustratedly. He was sitting on the table beside Mary, clearing away the plastic wrapping and handing her the instruction manual as she went about her work. The other woman thanked him warmly each time he did so and his ears pricked up as he absolutely _beamed_ at her. Marisa scowled at him then, considering for a brief moment reaching over to knock him completely off the table.

“I’ve inserted a few numbers for you already,” Mary was saying now. She was still concentrating so thoroughly on the phone as she sat there in the kitchen chair, her left knee curled comfortably under her right in her favorite pair of flannel pajamas. “Mine, Zoe’s, Oliver’s from the lab, and some of the local numbers in case you ever need anything.”

“What’s Lyra’s number?” Marisa asked immediately. The golden monkey rolled his eyes but Marisa ignored him, placing all of her attention on Mary and feeling her heart race just a tiny bit faster now.

Mary didn’t say anything. She glanced briefly at Marisa but then turned back to the phone, shifting uncomfortably in her seat.

“What?”

“I’m not sure I should give her number to you,” Mary said very carefully, blue eyes darting nervously from the phone to Marisa.

“And why not?” Marisa fumed.

“Because she asked me not to.” Marisa’s heart dropped at that, and her mouth gaped open as Mary gazed sorrowfully at her. The golden monkey even stiffened there on the table, unable to escape the pain that coursed through her. “I’m sorry, Marisa. She just...told me that she wanted her space, and that she worried about how often you’d try to contact her.”

That hurt more than Marisa wanted to admit. She and Lyra didn't have the _best_ relationship, by all accounts, given their _history._ But they'd both promised to be better and to try, when they'd settled down in this world--Lyra with Will's mom and Marisa with Mary. Marisa thought Lyra had _meant_ it, that she _wanted_ this as much as Marisa so very desperately wanted this. Perhaps Marisa was too passionate in her attempts to show how very much she meant it. 

She looked away as she felt the emotion of it all threaten to consume her, focusing instead on one of the paintings Mary had up in the kitchen, which was some kind of mountain. “I wouldn’t contact her that often.”

“Marisa,” Mary tutted, her eyes suddenly harder now. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten how you stole my phone that one time and left Lyra twenty-nine voicemails in under an hour."

Marisa glared back, feeling her nose twitch up instinctually. “That was different. It was...a trying time.”

“And when you showed up at Will’s house and begged his mother to let you in so you could see her?”

“Again,” Marisa let out, enunciating each consonant, “different circumstances. I was...not well. But I’m better now.”

“I’m not giving you her number,” Mary sighed, handing Marisa the phone, “but if you behave yourself then I’ll text her and ask if we can schedule a phone call. She seemed more amenable to that idea.”

Marisa’s eyes flashed, but as an idea occurred to her, she let it go, asking Mary instead to help her pick out apps and learn how to google and everything else she needed to learn how to do.

Mary, as Marisa had learned, was a proficient enough internet-user but not entirely savvy. She didn’t do social media, for example, and told Marisa she’d be wise not to get involved herself. It was too much to keep up with, and something that the _younger_ generation heavily invested in while people of _their_ generation (Marisa _hated_ that, being contrasted to _young_ people) were best left to the old-fashioned methods of communication like phone calls and text messages and emails. Marisa already had an email account (mrs.m.coulter10@gmail.com) that she used to communicate with prospective research groups as she and Mary worked on her getting into the research of this world, but that wasn’t enough for Marisa. None of it was, even when the internet provided literally anything she could ever dream and think of.

It was after Mary went to bed that Marisa snuck out of their bedroom and got out her phone, searching “Lyra Silvertongue” on the google website.

Lyra, it appeared, adjusted _quite well_ to the world of social media. And all of her accounts were what Mary described as “public” and open-access.

Time seemed to still as Marisa clicked on the first link to see Lyra’s instagram account. Her “handle,” also called “username,” was “silvertongue_queen_of_bears” and she posted a lot of pictures about her daily life living with Will and his mother. She posted pictures of her food, which was _awful_ and _boring_ and _simple_ in the form of sandwiches and cereal and macaroni and cheese. She also posted pictures of herself, however—getting ready for school, _at_ school, in the car on the way home from school, with Will _after_ school…

She was so beautiful, Marisa couldn't help but think as she scrolled through all the hundreds of pictures. Lyra looked so grown up and, more importantly, happy. And, Marisa thought with a smile, her eyebrows looked more like hers every single day. 

Marisa continued to search, seeing that Lyra was also active on “Facebook” (Lyra Silvertongue) and “Twitter” (@l_silvertongue) in addition to instagram. Facebook seemed private where one had to be “friends” in order to connect, but Twitter was open. Her Twitter was not “locked” or “private.” All Marisa needed was an account and then she could reach out, she could _talk_ to her, she could _catch_ up with her…

But, Marisa knew Lyra would never respond to her if she were to create an account herself. She didn’t even accept Marisa’s _phone calls_ let alone instant messages on a social media platform. There was no way this could work, even though every possibility of this entire world was available right there at Marisa’s fingertips. 

Why was it that she held the world but it could never, _ever_ be enough?

Unless…

_You shouldn’t._ Looking up, Marisa saw her daemon make his way slowly over to her, his eyes still heavy with sleep and his limbs stiff and sore from the way he’d been sleeping against the headboard by Mary’s pillow.

“What are you doing awake?” she rasped aloud at him, keeping her eyes glued to the little bright screen as she stretched out on the sofa.

_I know when you’re awake,_ he thought back hotly, _and I know what you’re trying to do. You shouldn’t._

Marisa knew, deep down, that he was right. She thought this as she went to her “gmail app” and scrolled through the emails she’d gotten from Mary (mary.malone@physics.ox.ac.uk). Sometimes Mary sent her photos from her phone, but she also checked Mary’s personal email account (maryquitecontrary2@gmail.com) to see if she had any _other_ photographs.

_Don’t do it,_ the monkey insisted as she scrolled through the photos Mary had sent her.

_“This_ one certainly isn’t appropriate,” Marisa smirked as she paused at one, and then she kept going until she found a nice selfie Mary had taken right when she’d arrived to work one day, with the caption “Having a good day at work; hope you are having a good day, too!” in the body of the email.

_Stop,_ the monkey insisted, getting up from his space on the floor and jumping up onto the sofa with her.

“Don’t you even _think_ about it,” Marisa snapped, and she tossed him a look of such disdain and malevolence that he shrank back immediately, backing up to the end of the sofa and staring wide-eyed at her.

Creating the Twitter account wasn’t that difficult, really. She put in her name (“Mary Malone”), her handle (@MaryMalonePhysics), inserted her new cell phone number, uploaded Mary’s picture, and that was it! The website sent a verification code to her phone, which was easy enough, and then she was in.

_You’re despicable,_ the monkey seethed from his corner. He had somehow reached a point of understanding that he couldn’t do anything to stop her but that he could _at least_ make it known how much he disapproved.

“I don’t care what you think,” Marisa scoffed at him, going up to the little search bar and typing in “@l_silvertongue” before selecting the “follow” button. Seeing that her “DMs” were “open,” Marisa paused, bit her lip, clicked on the little mail icon, and then sent the following message:

**_“Hi, Lyra! It’s Mary! I’ve finally joined social media.”_ **

_I can’t believe you!_ The monkey let out then, releasing a little growl as he leaned in closer to try and see. _What in the world is wrong with you? Stealing your girlfriend’s identity in order to connect with your estranged daughter?_

It was kind of ridiculous, now that the daemon had pointed it out to her. Sort of unhinged, really, and desperate like those obsessive women in those trashy murder movies. But Marisa didn’t care. She saw that it was ten o’clock and assumed Lyra was probably sleeping by now (or, rather, _hoped_ that Will’s mother imposed bedtimes for the girl).

But a couple minutes later, she saw three tiny bubbles at the bottom of the message screen. Marisa’s heart nearly stopped. 

**_Mary! Is this for real?! U r on social media now?_ **

Marisa scowled then, at her daughter’s casual usage of slang and letters to represent actual _words._ What were they teaching her over at that school? Marisa had tried to get in touch with the faculty there but apparently her name had been listed as a “do-not-release-information-to” list and she wasn’t able to follow through with it. So this distressed her, as well as worried her since it was so late at night already, but Marisa had to press on. 

**_Yup! Have to catch up with the times, huh?_ **

Marisa hoped that this would suffice. That sounded like Mary, didn’t it?

_No,_ the monkey drawled, but she knew he was lying and that he actually believed it, hence his frown. Marisa stared down at the phone intensely, awaiting more contact from Lyra.

**_Am I ur 1st follower?_ ** was the response, and Marisa looked at the top of the screen to see a little icon with a “plus” that said Lyra had indeed followed her (or, rather, _Mary)._

**_Yeah!_ ** Marisa wrote back, praying that she was embodying her girlfriend well enough. **_I don’t know who else to follow. Any suggestions?_ **

And so it went on for a while longer, with Lyra recommending this and that and giving her Will’s information as well. Then, once it felt like a good time to change up the conversation, Marisa felt like it was time to intervene.

**_How are you doing? I miss you,_ ** Marisa wrote. She felt something catch at her chest as she hit send, since it was _true,_ and she felt so _isolated_ from her child when she was just around the corner and they had all the time in the world to reconnect and to try again. Oh, how her heart ached, as she had all these feelings that she wasn’t able to properly express in this medium! 

**_Doin’ ok,_ ** the first message sent. Marisa learned that Lyra typically sent a steady stream of short messages as opposed to a long paragraph. **_School is kinda hard and my grades are bad but it’s ok. Idc really, even tho I kno I should. Wbu?_ **

_Wbu,_ Marisa kept reading in her head. What was that possibly supposed to mean? Wbu-who?

_What about you,_ the monkey offered, in spite of himself, it seemed, and Marisa let out an “aha!” as she typed back, her breath growing more ragged as she learned more and more about her secretive daughter. Lyra shared that she was upset with Will’s mother for taking away her phone last week when she’d tripped Will as he was coming down the stairs (as she _should_ ) and still felt so out of place in their house, and like she was family but not.

_I’m your family,_ Marisa couldn’t help but scream internally. _Your place is with_ **_me._ ** _I want to be with you. Let me love you._

Marisa couldn't take it. Her heart was ready to burst from her chest. It was all too _much_ yet, of course, not quite enough. 

It was especially hard to breathe when Lyra finally sent her the kind of message Marisa was both dreading and anxiously awaiting.

**_How’s my mother?_ ** The girl said after forty or so minutes of back-and-forth ( _why_ was she even still awake, Marisa partially needed to know?!).

**_She’s doing well,_ ** Marisa typed, again feeling so incredibly and tenderly alone in this moment. **_She’s doing better. I think she’s really changed, Lyra. I think she’s ready to come back into your life now, actually. What would you think of that?_ **

It took Lyra longer to respond this time. Several minutes passed by, which felt like _hours_ to Marisa as she stared hungrily at the screen, wondering if she said too much too soon and if Lyra was growing suspicious. She was probably just tired, Marisa figured, and maybe fell asleep already, which she _hoped_ since it was a Tuesday and Lyra had school in the morning. If Lyra were in Marisa’s care, she’d _never_ let the girl take the phone to bed with her and would, instead, make her deposit it in her hands every night before she went to bed at nine o’clock sharp. Marisa would then look through it to make sure she wasn’t doing anything inappropriate (like DMing _any random person who contacted her as she was doing right now)._

But after yet a few more minutes passed by, Marisa resorted to biting her nails. For his part, the golden monkey angrily picked at a small tear in the sofa’s cushioning. Soon enough Mary barged into the living room and Marisa _knew_ exactly what had happened.

_“Unbelievable!”_ the red-head shouted, storming up to Marisa and snatching the smartphone right out of her hands. Marisa gaped at her, about to protest, when Mary tossed her the most repulsed look she’d _ever_ experienced. “Pretending you’re me on social media to talk to Lyra? Are you out of your _mind?_ Were you even _listening_ to me when I told you that she wanted some space from you?”

“I needed to talk to her,” Marisa let out, and she was embarrassed at the whine entering her voice and the tears that were starting to pool in her eyes. She couldn’t help herself. She glanced over to the monkey for some support, but his gaze burned into hers as he leaped from the couch onto Mary's shoulders. Marisa felt the familiar surge of cold at that, which felt extra isolating given that everyone in her entire life now seemed to be poised against her.

“Can’t you see how this isn’t making anything better?” Mary continued, full-on lecturing Marisa now as if she were a petulant child. “This is so _bad,_ Marisa! My god. How is she supposed to trust you now? Hell, how can she even trust _me?_ D’you she just sent me a message that she’s never going to talk to either of us again and she hates her life? Is that what you want for your child?”

“No,” Marisa whispered, feeling the first of her tears begin to fall. Pain surged in her chest now as she took on the gravity of the situation and of her feelings about it. “I just want what’s best for her. But, how can 'what’s best for her' be a world in which I, as her mother, am not taking care of her?”

Mary softened then as Marisa started to quietly weep. Her shoulders began to shudder involuntarily as all of the excitement and anticipation and bitterness and yearning oozed out of her system. After the briefest moment of hesitation, Mary plopped down on the sofa beside her, putting an arm around her. “I know, Marisa.”

“You can’t _possibly_ know!” Marisa shot back, but then she was crying in earnest as she let her head rest against Mary’s shoulders. The other woman shushed her and placed her other arm around her, holding her tightly and warmly. Marisa was lost, so very lost, and clung to Mary for what felt like dear life. 

“We’ll figure it out,” Mary soothed, placing a light kiss on the top of Marisa’s head. The monkey emerged from Mary’s shoulders to rest on the other side of Marisa, placing a tentative hand to her back. “But you have to stop acting like this. You have to actually _be_ better.”

“I know,” Marisa said shakily, leaning back up and shaking her head. She dabbed at a few lingering tears and then twisted around to look back over at the monkey. He was still angry at her, as she could _feel_ the tidal wave of his rage, but he was gentler, too, as his little hands moved into a comforting motion across her back.

“Can we call Lyra and apologize?” Marisa asked hopefully, looking over at Mary above the tissue she was using to blow her nose.

“Let me call her and ask her first,” Mary sighed, her gaze flickering down at Maria’s face again before she got up and headed back into the bedroom, both smartphones clasped in her right hand.

Marisa could be better, she thought, taking another tissue to wipe now at her cheeks and at the bottom of her eyes. Her daemon wasn’t so confident as he sniffed his nose at her and went back to the other end of the sofa. But Marisa knew. Deep in her heart she knew that she could. She was still working on it, and was still struggling, but she could do and be better. All she needed was a chance.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this; I certainly enjoyed writing this! And, yes, I really enjoyed picking out handles and email addresses for this :D Thought it was time we had a story here about Lyra and her two new moms!


End file.
